


sing the stars to me

by Areiton



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Pining, chris needs a hug, mentioned panic attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27496504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: It makes these moments precious, because it’s the bedrock.This is what makes them work.
Relationships: Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	sing the stars to me

They’ve been together for years, now. It started as fuck buddies, a way to let off steam on set, but somewhere--sometime between panic attacks on press tours and living together during that Broadway run--they became some thing more than fuck buddies. 

They’ve been together for years, now, and even though they are, they’re  _ together,  _ a deep unshakable thing that Chris wonders if he’s worthy of--they don’t live together or even spend most of their time on the same coast. 

It makes these moments precious, because it’s the bedrock. 

Not the nights when they fuck, when Seb goes soft and sweet and begging for him, when Chris bites bruises into all that pale skin and muscle. 

Not the stolen moments during conventions when they kiss, messy and desperate and hungry, or the stolen glances in panels, or the long afternoons on set when they’re a bit more handsy than they  _ need  _ to be. 

This is what makes them work. 

The nights when he’s so tired he can’t see straight, when he falls into bed and Seb’s voice curls down the line, warm and raspy and right, soothing him down to sleep. 

The nights when he’s wired, and can’t settle and Seb reads to him, a playful litany and badly done voices for a shitty scifi they’re both reading together until the tension all drains away. 

The nights when he’s calm, and Seb is quiet and he sings, soft and gentle, loud and obnoxious, until Seb is laughing and calling him ridiculous. 

The nights when he’s teasing, poking Seb until he snarls back, spits out a snarled storyline and Chris listens, patient and understanding and baffled, until Seb wanders back to him from a storyline tangent that had him twisted up, sighs and murmurs his thanks. 

This what they are. This is what makes them work. 

And he loves it. 

But occasionally--when he’s calm and Seb is bored and they’re both curled in their too big empty beds miles away from each other, he’ll roll to his back and stare up at the skylight, at the stars wheeling overhead and he’ll murmur, “Tell me about the stars.” 

And Seb does, whispers secrets of the universe and wonders of the galaxy, this giant space that is terrifying and beautiful, and he’ll listen, the stars in his eyes, and love in his ear, until he falls asleep, the soothing litany of heroes and stars and undiscovered galaxies the sweetest lullaby singing him to sleep. 


End file.
